


The Story of Onodera Ritsu and The Month He Travelled Back In Time

by ghostwriting



Category: Sekai-ichi Hatsukoi
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwriting/pseuds/ghostwriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A near-fatal accident sends twenty-five-year-old Onodera Ritsu back to an alternate timeline six months after he moved to England. When a parallel accident occurs within the alternate timeline, he finds himself trapped in the body of his fifteen-year-old self with the opportunity to meet the seventeen-year-old Takano that he left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What Are The Chances?](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/31897) by merinxD. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by [divasaur](http://divasaur.tumblr.com/).  
> This chapter's plot was beta-ed by [michaelises](http://michaelises.tumblr.com/).  
> (She suggests that I get a better title but I'm bad with titles. Feel free to send some alternative title suggestions my way if you've got any.)
> 
> Mistakes are all mine. Please excuse the GSP errors. I'm looking for a beta for that. If you're keen, do drop me a note.

* * *

_Fizzle… snap… Fizzle… snap…_

“Hey, hold up.”

“What’s wrong?”

A single manicured finger was raised. “Look at that,” she said, tugging lightly at her partner’s arm. “That looks dangerous.”

_Fizzle… snap…_

Her boyfriend followed her gaze, and found himself staring at what could only be described as a pile of shattered glass and exposed wires. It was a sorry plight for what used to be an electronic advertising board.

“Something must have hit it,” he mused.

_Fizzle… snap…_

The girlfriend nodded, reaching for her mobile phone. “We should probably call someone.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, glancing briefly at the sky that had begun to fill with angry grey clouds. “That’s probably a good idea.”

* * *

Onodera pressed his palms into the sides of his head as he glared at the calendar that stared smugly back at him. He had a month. One. Month.

_She’s not going to make it._

He grimaced.

I’m  _not going to make it!_

Onodera groaned audibly. The manuscript had undergone two rounds of edits from the author and she had done everything that he had told her to. What, then, was the unreadable mess that he was looking at? Where had he gone wrong?

Marukawa Emerald was well within the editorial cycle, and yet again, Onodera felt like he was struggling to keep up. He glanced at Kisa who sat typing at his desk with a look of pure determination (and a bit of crazy… but that was not uncommon for Emerald at this time of the year), ignoring the regular buzz of his mobile phone. The rest of his colleagues looked as if they were coping fine as well. “Fine” was subjective, of course, because they had definitely seen better days. However, as far as the approaching-end-of-cycle scene was concerned, everyone seemed perfectly dandy. No one was crawling around and moaning, no one smelled as if they had not showered for days, and no one looked like they were about to chew off another person’s head.

Perfectly dandy.

Onodera turned the accusing calendar away from him and sighed. No one seemed like they were out of ideas, but he was. He had started the cycle believing that there was astounding potential in the manuscript, only to find out months later that he had underestimated the amount of work it would require.

_There’s no way I can salvage this._

But that was not true. There was a way. Onodera knew that there was always a way. The way was just not clicking in his head, and the only person he knew who could help him was seated not too far to his right, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed behind a pair of reading glasses.

_Hell no._

Onodera shook his head vigorously.

_That’s just going to give him another reason to mock me._

“When you’re done shaking the sense out of your head, I’d like to speak to you about the author you’re in charge of, Onodera.”

He jumped at the sound of his name, wanting desperately to sink into his chair and disappear.

_Great._

* * *

“They said that they’ll be over in thirty minutes,” the girlfriend said, tucking her mobile phone back into her pocket. “They suggested that we stay here to make sure everything’s all right.”

“I think it’s best if we stayed a distance away from the board,” her boyfriend replied. “It looks like it’s going to pour, and who knows what’ll happen with the live wires and rain.”

She laughed as she wrapped her arms around him.

“Oh, I’m not worried. I’ll be fine with you around.”

* * *

“See ya, Ricchan!” Kisa called out as he darted out of the department. “Good work today!”

“Good work Kisa-san,” Onodera smiled.

“You could do better,” Takano commented, leaning against the side of Onodera’s cubicle as soon as the department had emptied.

Onodera frowned. “You know I’m trying my best,” he snapped.

“Your best is not good enough,” Takano shrugged. “Let’s go.”

Onodera looked confused, but was led to pack his desk and the rest of his work into his bag. “But I’m not done. You told me that – ”

“I know what I told you,” Takano interrupted, slipping his hand easily into Onodera’s. “I’m telling you now that I’ll work on it with you back home. Come on.”

Instinctively, Onodera pulled his hand away, the useless retort of _we’re at work!_ dying in his throat because one, he knew it would be futile, and two, there was no one in the office. Takano barely flinched, and instead chose to gaze out the window to the streets outside Marukawa.

“Hmm.”

“What?” Onodera asked, popping his head round the cubicle.

“It’s raining,” said Takano lightly. 

In any other situation, Onodera would not have turned the bright shade of red that he was. However, this particular situation involved a certain embarrassing flash back of a certain boy aged fifteen pining after a certain seventeen-year-old senior.

* * *

“It’s really pouring, isn’t it?” the girlfriend sighed, extending a hand.

Huddled under a single umbrella, the couple watched as the rain continued to beat down unrelentingly.

She sighed. “They’re taking a really long time. I’m not surprised if there’s a traffic jam down the main street.”

_Fizzle… snap… snap… fzzzt… snap…_

“I’m glad no one’s really coming down this road,” commented her partner, watching the sparking wires worriedly as cars drove by. 

* * *

Takano listened to the silence between them as they made their way down the road towards their apartment. He felt that people often underestimated the value of silences, because they could reveal far more about a person’s feelings than they would let on… especially when it came to one Onodera Ritsu. He cast a sidelong glance towards the man in particular, and smiled faintly.

Onodera Ritsu.

_I’ll make you fall in love with me._

How distant and feeble that declaration seemed now. Takano was arguably confident and determined, but his affections often appeared to be one-sided and futile at times, despite the innate belief that Onodera did feel the same. Ten years and a huge misunderstanding had changed Onodera. He was no longer the Oda he knew.

_And yet…_

He chuckled.

“Takano-san?”

Takano had stopped in his tracks, preoccupied with his own thoughts. “Hah?”

“I said it looks like it’s dangerous there. Maybe we should take another route,” Onodera repeated, gesturing towards the sparking wreckage across the road. It seemed like an electronic advertisement board had collapsed. He took a step towards Takano, evidently concerned over the fact that he had spaced out. “Are you all right?”

 _Fzzt… snap… pop… fzzzt… pop…_  

The sides of Takano’s mouth tugged upwards into a fond smile. 

He was no longer the Oda he knew, and yet, some things did not change. Overwhelmingly moved by his simple act of concern, Takano leaned forward and closed the distance between them.

“I’m fine,” he whispered. 

_Fzzt… snap… pop… fzzzt… fzzt…_

Caught entirely by surprise with the sudden brush of chapped lips against his own, Onodera pushed him away by reflex (perhaps a little harder than he had intended to), sending Takano stumbling and tripping over the pavement and onto the road. 

Onodera stood horrified at the grown twenty-seven-year-old man sitting confused and wet in the middle of the road. 

“I-I’m so sorry!” he stammered, attempting to salvage the situation by rushing towards him.

Takano brushed his dripping fringe away from his eyes as he stared up at Onodera. “What was that for?”

_Fzzt… snap… pop… pop… snap… pop…_

“You surprised me!” he countered, looking away uncomfortably whilst awkwardly attempting to shield the other man with his own umbrella.

“Tch.” 

“Get up,” Onodera hissed, glancing at the couple watching them from across the street next to the advertising board wreck. “People are staring.”

“And whose fault is that?” Takano countered, pushing himself to his feet. “I could deduct your pay for this. Rookie editor pushes boss onto the road in the rain. That’s very unbecoming of an employee, you know.”

Onodera scowled. “Shut u – ”

An ear-piercing shriek from across the road cut Onodera’s retort short. Both Onodera and Takano glanced in the direction of the couple pointing desperately at something behind them.

“Watch out!” the lady cried.

Onodera turned around just in time to see a black sedan heading straight for them at full speed. It was swerving left and right, looking as if it was having a hard time keeping itself on the road. Despite all the swerving, it was _definitely_ heading towards them. The fact that it was clearly a drunk individual driving the vehicle was not helping. His peripheral vision indicated that Takano was already reaching out to push him out of the way.

Onodera panicked.

There was no way to get both of them out of the collision path in time.

_No._

Squeezing his eyes shut, Onodera planted his hands firmly against the side of Takano’s arm and shoved him to the side with all the strength and force he could muster.

“I’m sorry!”

“What are you – ”

The girlfriend screamed in horror as the black sedan made contact with a body with a sickening crunch, sending it rolling up against the front and top of the car, before flying sideways across the road, straight into the advertising board wreck.

The couple dodged out of the way as the car swerved and hit a tree.

A different agonised scream was heard as the body convulsed with the sheer force of electricity shooting through it in the electric wreckage of live wires and rain.

“Onodera!” 

An explosion followed seconds later.

* * *

Takano shifted and groaned, coughing as soon as he inhaled the dusty air that was just beginning to settle.

_Onodera._

Moving bloodied hands stuck with shards of glass, Takano attempted to prop himself up. Across from him was the couple from across the road. They were beginning to get on their feet and were stumbling towards the single, defeated, charred body that lay a few feet away from the rest of them.

“Onodera,” Takano breathed.

* * *

_“Oh my god!”_

_“Someone call an ambulance, quick!”_

_“Help! Someone! Anybody!”_

Onodera struggled to open his eyes, but everything seemed too bright and too distant.

 _“Onodera,”_ a voice called. _“Onodera, answer me!”_

“Ta… ka… no-san?” Onodera rasped and winced. Everything hurt. His skin felt hot and he could feel the blood sliding down his face. He tried to open his eyes again, but something seemed different. 

_“Oh my god!”_

_“Hey,”_ a hand reached forward towards him. _“Hey! Buddy, are you all right?”_

“Eng… English,” Onodera mumbled. “Why are you speaking…? Who…?”

Something was not right. This guy was speaking English. He groaned and reached towards him. Again, the scene became blurry and shifted. A face that looked like Takano's was close to his. Where was the other guy?

_“Onodera, stay awake. Please stay – ”_

“I don’t… What’s going on?” he whispered, feeling his world spin for the third time.

 _“I’ve got you. Don’t worry,”_ said the unknown boy in English. “ _Oh damn it, this looks bad.”_

Onodera frowned, struggling to make sense of everything. What was going on? Where was Takano? Where was he?

“I…”

The English boy was holding him with one arm and pressing a mobile phone against his ear with the other hand. As the boy shifted Onodera’s position, he caught a glimpse of a set of white stairs splotched with blood before his world went completely black.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the positive feedback with the first chapter. As usual, I welcome any and all constructive feedback.
> 
> This particular chapter is in part dedicated to Sam, who sent me a lovely message on Tumblr earlier this week. It gave me the much needed boost to finish this. I hope you'll enjoy this as much as you did with the first chapter, Sam!
> 
> This chapter's plot was beta-ed by [michaelises](http://michaelises.tumblr.com/). She's the reason why you don't read my childish writing.
> 
> Mistakes are all mine. Please excuse the GSP errors. Still looking for a beta. If you're keen, do drop me a note.

* * *

Onodera sighed, blinking lethargically as he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun that streamed through the hospital windows.

_Hospital?_

“Ritsu, you’re awake.”

“Mum?” Onodera frowned. His own voice sounded oddly high. “Why are you – “

“You fell down the college stairs here in England and gave yourself a really bad concussion,” she explained, arranging a bouquet of fresh flowers in a vase.

“I what?” Onodera struggled to push himself up.

His mother paused, and looked at him curiously. “You don’t remember anything?”

“I remember getting into a car accident…” Onodera mused, recalling the rain, the collision and…

He gasped.

“Takano-san and the couple! Where are they? Are they all right?”

His mother appeared visibly confused and perplexed. “What are you talking about, Ritsu?”

Onodera blinked. Did his mother look younger?

“Mum, what’s going on?”

* * *

“I’m fifteen?!” 

“Of course you are. How old did you think you were?”

Onodera stared at himself in the mirror.

“I guess your father and I expected the worst when the doctor told us that you would experience some sort of memory loss from the accident… But this is strange,” his mother admitted, seating herself on the side of Onodera’s hospital bed. “When you’re well enough, we’re hoping to move you back to Japan since there’s no one up here in England to take care of you.”

Onodera turned to his mother. “How did you say I ended up here again?”

“You fell down the college steps in England. The doctor said you were lucky to be alive since you knocked up your head really badly on the way down,” she answered.

Onodera considered the only probable explanation: He had been sent back in time – an alternate timeline – because of the accident back home.

“No. There’s no way,” he said to himself. “It’s not possible.”

“Do you need me to call the doctor?” his mother asked, looking increasingly puzzled by Onodera’s muttering.

Onodera stared at his mother.

_What do I do?_

“I need to get back.”

“Get back where?”

“Home?” Onodera answered feebly.

* * *

After hours spent trying to convince the doctor, his mother, and his father (over the telephone) that he was not insane and that he just wanted to return back to his twenty-five-year-old self, Onodera decided that now would be a good time as ever to head out for a breath of fresh air. Wandering around the intensive care facility, he found himself in a small outdoor garden on the fifth floor in the centre of four excessively sleek and futuristic hospital blocks. Sitting himself down on one of the wooden benches, Onodera sighed. Surely this was some god’s idea of a sick joke. As if meeting Takano ten years down the line was not bad enough, he had to be sent back to the exact same time he had spent trying to forget him.

He raised a hand to touch the thick bandage that went around his head, supposedly concealing a nasty gash and stitches holding his skull together. In the midst of trying to understand the situation and resulting chaos and confusion, he hadn’t noticed how badly his head was throbbing. Now that he was left alone with his thoughts, he felt the ache in his skull that suggested the severity of his fall.

Onodera considered the situation he was in. He speculated that the accident during the present day had sent him back ten years in an alternate timeline where his younger self was clearly involved in an accident of some sort as well. Assuming that both versions of himself had lost consciousness, and assuming that both were accidents that almost led him to lose his life, surely that meant that the solution would involve re-enacting the accident so that he’d be able to switch bodies again?

He glanced at the stone staircase that led from the garden down to the area outside the hospital cafeteria on the first floor.

There was the rather terrifying possibility that rolling down another flight of stairs wouldn’t be the solution to his dilemma, and that he’d actually die on the way down (given his current condition)… or worse still, return to his own timeline and discover that he was actually dead there (because that would certainly be unsurprising given the nature of the accident back home).

Onodera shook his head and began his slow walk to the top of the staircase.

Yes, the odds weren’t exactly in his favour, but when he thought about what – or rather, who – was waiting back home for him… He had to try. Though he wouldn’t admit it, Onodera was concerned about Takano. He didn’t know how he was after the accident, and recalling the face fraught with worry close to his telling him to stay awake, there was no doubt that Takano cared deeply for him. Onodera just could not find it within him to forget what he had to go through ten years ago, and he certainly wasn’t going to relive it in this timeline. He didn’t belong here.

Onodera tested his weight and balance on the edge of a step and took a deep breath.

“Ritsu, what are you doing out here? We’ve been looking all over for you!”

Onodera turned around, startled, and lost his balance.

“Wha – ah!”

* * *

“We’ll go home, okay? Ritsu, please, for goodness sake, stop putting yourself in dangerous situations,” his mother told him, shaking her head as she filled out the paper work. “Your father and I don’t necessarily agree with your decision, and neither does the doctor,” she added under her breath, “but you’re a big boy now and can decide on things by yourself.”

She raised her head, looking at Onodera in the eye. “If you think going back home to Japan so soon is the best thing to do, then we’ll support you through your recovery. Just promise me you won’t do something so silly again. That was probably what landed you in this state in the first place.”

Onodera looked away, and nodded sheepishly. To be honest, he felt bad for what he put his mother – alternate-timeline-mother – through. It definitely couldn’t have been pleasant to have to watch over a son who was bent on placing himself in life-threatening situations to get back to a seemingly non-existent ‘home’ in an alternate timeline. If he were in his mother’s shoes, he would probably think that the fall had knocked all the common sense out of him too.

“The doctor agreed that if, by the end of the week, you show an improvement, we’ll be able to move you back to Japan with regular check-ups at the partner hospital there,” she continued, checking the dates indicated on the paper work. “He did state that you’re doing surprisingly well ever since you regained consciousness.”

His mother had caught him by the arm just as he was about to roll down a set of stairs for the second time, and the look of terror and genuine worry on her face had convinced Onodera that he wasn’t going to attempt something similar again. Not any time soon, at least. Onodera knew that he loved his parents and that they cared for him, but perhaps it had been the years away from his parents that caused them to drift apart… and sometimes he would forget that they deserved better and that they were growing old.

He glanced at his mother who had resumed the paper work with a frown. Once he looked beyond her sharp dressing and perfectly coifed hair, she was a woman with many responsibilities and they showed in her face and posture when she thought no one was looking. If she had looked like this ten years ago, Onodera couldn’t imagine how she looked like now.

“I’m sorry, Mum,” he said quietly. Somehow, his fifteen-year-old voice made him sound more timid than he actually was. Or was that how he actually felt?

She looked up, surprised, blinking a few times before smiling gently at him.

“That’s all right, Ritsu. As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters.” 

Onodera directed his gaze to his feet that dangled on the edge of the hospital bed. He had always wanted to make his parents proud even when they’ve constantly shown him that they were proud of him by just being himself. Yes, his strange obsession with proving himself worthy of his parents’ love was how it had always been, and he had struggled and cried and came home everyday to make sure his grades were always the top five percent in school in the hopes that his parents would be proud of him (even though they already were). That was how his life had been up to the point when he met Takano and fell head over heels for the grey-haired senpai that looked so serenely sad and lonely in the library everyday. In those moments, his time was spent not poring over thick textbooks but peeking behind and between bookshelves so that he could borrow the same book that Takano did, or glancing at him secretly from behind his books so that he could watch the brown eyes move over pages with a strange combination of bored interest. It was captivating, and he was beautiful. In those moments, Onodera had forgotten about trying desperately to prove himself, and in those moments, he only felt a warm glow of affection for the senpai who sat alone in the library. For once, someone mattered more to him than his own pride. After he moved to England, he had resumed the same slave-driving attitude and regime in his own life, and after he felt proud and worthy enough to be part of his father’s company, the rest was history.

Onodera smoothed his hands over his clothes that were placed neatly next to him on the bed. He knew that he was responsible for his own misery during the time before and after he met Takano. His parents had never demanded much of him, but in a way, if Onodera had to redo his life again, he would have adopted the same attitude and lived his life in the very same way. He believed that it was important to work hard regardless of your background and be someone truly worthy of your status. He only regretted not paying enough attention to the very same people he was trying to prove his worth to.

“Ritsu?”

His mother had placed a hand on his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts.

“I said: We can go now,” she repeated. “Are you feeling okay?”

Onodera leaned forward, resting his head against his mother’s chest, bringing his arms around her. She smelled of lilies, and he had almost forgotten about that. He felt like he had forgotten a lot of things. He hoped his gesture conveyed what he felt, because he couldn’t trust himself to say more.

His mother placed a comforting hand on the top of his head, and somehow, Onodera trusted that she understood.

* * *

A week later, Onodera was discharged from the hospital in England and on a flight across the world to Japan. He was admitted to a local hospital for observation before he was allowed to return home, where his mother and father were happy to welcome him back.

In the duration that he was out-of-action, Onodera had decided to lay low, going along with the story that he had indeed lost his memory and made little to no mention of his ‘home’ in the alternate timeline. He also spent hours and days thinking about what he ought to do about his predicament before settling on the ever-reliable plan of ‘play by ear’.

Hours after he was discharged from the hospital, Onodera found himself outside Takano’s old home. His head was still throbbing, and the winter cold was really getting to his bones. However, something had brought his feet to his doorstep.

Onodera rocked on the balls of his feet, watching his breath create white puffs of air in front of his face. How many months had it been in this timeline? Onodera had rationalised that the situation he was in had provided him with a rather unique opportunity to see what Takano’s life had been like after he left. If he were destined to be stuck here, there had to be a reason… Right?

Takano’s parents were probably not at home, and it was likely that they would be filing for a divorce soon, and Takano would be moving away to the countryside in due time. Onodera raised his hand several times to knock on the door, only to return it to his side because he could not come up with anything good to say.

He finally decided that Takano probably wasn’t home anyway, turned to leave… and gasped.

He found himself face-to-face with a very angry Takano, clutching a convenience store plastic bag, with his school bag slung over his shoulder.

_How long had he been standing there?_

Takano turned away and started marching in the opposite direction.

“W-Wait!” Onodera called out, starting to rush after him. “Taka – I mean – Senpai! Please wait!”

“What are you doing here?”

Onodera was hit with a sudden wave of nostalgia at the voice that once (and still) made his stomach fill with butterflies.

“I can explain, please wait!”

Takano stopped in his tracks, whirling around to face Onodera. He looked him dead in the eye, daring him to make up an excuse.

“Go on, I’m waiting.”

Suddenly uncomfortable under Takano’s stern gaze, Onodera clasped his hands together and shuffled his feet.

“I lost my memory,” he blurted out, before clamping a hand to his mouth. That wasn’t what he had meant to say.

Onodera watched as Takano’s furious expression changed into a puzzled one as he glanced at the bandage that held his head together, as if seeing it for the first time.

“I fell down some steps in England and hit my head. I can’t remember most things,” Onodera found himself continuing in some kind of fit of desperation. What kind of desperation would prompt such a lie, he didn’t really know. “I just… I just came to you because you seemed important.”

The crease between Takano’s brows disappeared and Onodera watched a strange look pass over his face that could only be described as a mix between hurt and concern. Just as the thought passed his mind, he felt a sharp pain in his head, causing him to squat down as he tried to will the pain away.

Arms were quickly around him, and Onodera looked up to see the same brown eyes looking at him with worry in exactly the same way that present-day Takano did.

“Ritsu,” he heard Takano whisper urgently, bending down beside him. “What should I do? Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

Onodera grabbed his hand. “No! Don’t. I – I’m fine. It’s just cold and I’m not – um,” he trailed off as they locked eyes.

Takano was the one who broke the silence.

“Let’s go to my place then.”

“What?”

He sighed, and looked away briefly.

“It can’t be helped,” Takano said, more to himself than to Onodera, before glancing back at Onodera whose pain seemed to dull into an ache. “It’s warmer in my house. Can you stand?”

Takano’s words settled uneasily in his stomach, but Onodera convinced himself that perhaps this was how things were supposed to be play out. He nodded, and slowly, with the aid of Takano, stood up and regained his balance and awareness of his surroundings.

Takano gestured towards the house.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The paragraph with Takano and the convenience store plastic bag is dedicated to [michaelises](http://michaelises.tumblr.com/) because she likes it so much and finds it absolutely hilarious for some reason.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note about this chapter: Onodera travels back in time before Season 2 Episode 23.
> 
> This chapter's plot was beta-ed by [michaelises](http://michaelises.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Mistakes are all mine. Please excuse the GSP errors. Still looking for a beta. If you're keen, do drop me a note.

* * *

Onodera attempted to glance surreptitiously at the stacks of boxes that lined the sides of the living room as Takano went to put his school and convenience store bags away, and promptly felt ridiculous for doing so. He wasn’t guilty of anything, and it was not as if he were not aware of this particular segment of Takano’s life. He just wasn’t expecting it to be so soon.

“How are you feeling?” Takano asked, setting down a glass of water on the table in front of Onodera and folding his legs beneath him to sit himself next to Onodera. Onodera noticed the distance he left between them. It felt familiar, and yet different at the same time.

“It doesn’t really hurt anymore,” he answered as he tightened his fingers around the glass. “Thanks.”

Takano propped his chin atop an upturned palm.

“So,” he said, turning his head towards Onodera. “How much do you remember?”

Onodera didn’t consider himself to be a particularly good liar, mainly because he could never trust himself to not blush a bright shade of red, or avert his gaze in a rather suspicious way. He tended to stammer a lot as well, but he had plenty of time to think about his story in the past week he spent in and out of hospitals, so the stuttering was getting to be less frequent. It was also the story he had been going with when his doctors and parents asked about his current memory bank.

“I remember my parents and most of my time in England, but besides that, I don’t remember much of my time in Japan,” Onodera said in a manner that he hoped to be convincing.

“And me?” Takano asked, watching him.

Onodera instantly felt his face grow hot. He hadn’t had much practice with the whole Takano lie. In fact, he had only just made it up on the (rather short) way to Takano’s house. So much for the ‘play by ear’ plan.

“U-Um,” Onodera began, staring intently at the glass of water in his hands. “I-I don’t remember much.”

“Much? Or nothing at all?” Takano looked unfazed, his gaze unflinching. Onodera couldn’t tell if Takano saw through his lie. His face hardly revealed anything, probably due to years of portraying an image of indifference in his family.

Onodera fidgeted. “I told you that I remembered that you were important.”

Takano observed him, as if taking his time to access his strange mannerisms and words. Then, without warning, he leaned towards him.

“How important?” he whispered, lips inches away from Onodera’s.

The sudden intimacy caught Onodera off-guard, and in the moment of surprise, he jerked backwards and sent the contents of his glass spilling down the front of Takano’s uniform.

“I-I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed, reaching forward to wipe Takano’s shirt with the sleeve of his own in a futile attempt to make the situation better.

Takano stilled his hand.

“It’s fine,” he told him as he turned away, seemingly unaffected. “I was out of line. You probably didn’t remember that.”

Onodera’s only reply was to clear his throat and avert his gaze. He knew that if Takano were to look at his face, he’d know instantly that it wasn’t true. He remembered. He remembered every last detail of the days spent in Takano’s room, every gentle touch that made him feel like his skin was on fire, every single kiss that left him pleasantly surprised and craving for more. His body still burned with the memory of Takano, stubborn reminders that Onodera continued to fight whenever Takano made a move on him. He didn’t want to remember, because with each aide-mémoire was a flashback to a mocking snicker that alluded to the fact that he was only deceiving himself.

It was then that he realised that Takano hadn’t taken him to his room. Perhaps it was out of courtesy because things were clearly not as they were before.

“So,” Takano continued after a short pause. “Where should we start?”

“Um, actually I – “

“My name is Saga Masamune,” Takano interrupted, meeting his eyes with determination. “We met in the school library.”

In that instance, Onodera almost saw the Takano he met back home, declaring his goal to make him fall in love with him with fiery resolve.

* * *

Onodera didn’t stay long at Takano’s before he left. Takano had said that his parents would be returning home soon, and Onodera hadn’t felt comfortable with sticking around when he was supposed to have forgotten most things about Takano and his family. Instead, Takano had offered to help with his memory of his time in Japan later this week. Seventeen-year-old Takano post-Onodera’s leave was far less aggressive than he had imagined. Takano hadn’t spoken much about this period of time, and for some reason or another, Onodera seemed to have expected both Takanos to be similar. Regardless, he had agreed to meet Takano after school the next day in the school library. His mother would not be pleased to learn that Onodera was already making plans to be gallivanting around with people so soon after being discharged, but he wasn’t about to sit around doing nothing whilst trapped in his alternate fifteen-year-old self. Besides, there was little else to do while resting at home, and he was confident of assuring his mother that meeting Takano would, in fact, be beneficial to his self-study endeavours while recuperating, especially since he was intending to meet Takano under the excuse of a senior helping a junior with his work.

That night, Onodera watched the night sky from his bedroom window, eventually falling asleep at two to the sound of the footsteps and bicycles on the quiet early morning pavement.

* * *

The school library, Onodera found, was mostly empty that evening, just as he had remembered it to be when he used to frequent the quiet room. It felt odd, walking through the mostly vacant library, as if he were in a video with the pause button on, retracing his footsteps in some strange dream. He stepped towards the familiar desk that sat off-centred in the middle of the library, with the evening sun casting a warm orange glow on the furniture and books. No one ever seemed to notice him here. Not even the librarian. And in a way, that was what he enjoyed most about the library. Here, no one saw him as the rich kid whose father was some big shot. Here, he was just another boy.

Onodera checked his watch. He was early. Takano wouldn’t be done with class until thirty minutes later, but Onodera wanted to have ample time to prepare himself. He wasn’t entirely sure what there was to prepare, but his journey so far had taken some less than pleasant twists and turns, so there had to be some sort of unquestionable merit to this.

He ran a finger down the spines of a collection of English classics, and smiled at the memory of his favourites. His father had introduced him to them at a young age before he got too busy with his work. It dawned on him that it had been awhile since he last touched them. Ever since his transfer to Marukawa, he had been reading far more manga than actual literature, partly because Takano had suggested that he do that, and partly because he himself had gradually begun to find value and beauty in manga that he never saw before. As Onodera wandered into the small collection of manga in the library, he found that he was tipping a large assortment of the genre into his arms. He thought, rather belatedly, that perhaps he had begun to grow attached to his work in a way that wasn’t purely driven by obligation. It was a strangely liberating realisation, Onodera found, as he thumbed through pages and pages of art and storylines that he had learned to appreciate, with the setting sun on his back.

* * *

“Were you lying all along?”

Onodera jerked his head backwards at the sound of Takano’s voice in his ear, hand flying to his ear self-consciously. Takano’s breath was still warm against his skin.

“What?”

Takano jabbed a finger at the stack of manga piled on the tabletop.

“That’s not exactly literature.”

Onodera frowned. “What’s wrong with manga?” he countered defensively.

“Nothing,” answered Takano with a shrug. “You just always gave me the impression that you thought manga was beneath you.”

At the statement, Onodera felt his face grow warm. He was certain that this particular Takano hadn’t meant anything, but it seemed to provide remarkably accurate commentary on his current life for someone he knew when he was fifteen.

“That’s not… entirely wrong,” admitted Onodera, thinking of his time at Marukawa. “But things are different now.”

Takano eyed him with the same bored interest that revealed a much smaller degree of curiousity than he would let on. He turned his attention to the book in his own hand, flipping it to the page where students would sign out the books. Takano thrust it in front of Onodera.

“There,” he said, pointing to Onodera’s pseudonym under _Saga Masamune_. “Does that ring a bell?”

Seeing his name positioned under Takano’s in his own writing felt strangely nostalgic despite leaving a marginally bad taste in his mouth. He hadn’t seen it in over ten years and hadn’t intended to see it or remember it since. Onodera’s eyes traced his handwriting, and could instantly picture himself in his mind’s eye, furtively scribbling his name under Takano’s, and cheering inwardly at succeeding in being close to him in some way. It was juvenile and utterly embarrassing. At the time, however, it had felt right.

“Not really,” lied Onodera, tucking his chin further towards his chest, hoping that Takano couldn’t read his eyes or his telling body language.

“We were together,” said Takano, sliding into the seat opposite him. “And it was because of that.”

“That?” Onodera eyed the book in feigned disbelief. It musn’t have been very convincing, because Onodera himself couldn’t quite believe his own acting.

“Yes,” Takano replied, letting his arms hang loosely by his side. “It’s a long story, but I think…”

He trailed off, staring rather blankly at the book between them.

“I think you were happy,” he finished.

There was a deliberate pause, as if Takano expected the silence to convey meaning.

Then, abruptly, he pushed his seat back and stood up.

“Well, it’s no use asking that now,” said Takano quietly, looking down at him with unreadable golden brown eyes. “You wouldn’t remember, would you?”

Onodera averted his eyes, feeling a tinge of indignation.

“That’s not fair.” 

“What?”

“You,” Onodera said, twisting his hands together. “You’re saying all this as if you weren’t responsible.”

Takano frowned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You do!” Onodera stated, his voice rising to a near shriek as he pushed his chair back with clenched fists. “You laughed when I asked you if we were – “

_Oops._

He watched as Takano’s eyes widened slightly part in confusion, and part in surprise. The librarian peeked her head round the corner.

Onodera laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head as he lowered himself back down into the chair.

“I mean… Um, oh wow, my head really hurts.”

“Excuse me, boys, it’d be nice if you could keep your voices down,” whispered the librarian.

Onodera never really understood the rationale behind the whole ‘keeping quiet in the library’ rule in this school since there was rarely anyone else.

“I laughed when you asked if we were what?” asked Takano, ignoring the librarian completely.

“It’s nothing, really. It’s probably just my head – “ 

“Ritsu.”

Onodera flinched at the hardness in Takano’s tone. He couldn’t remember when he had last spoken to him like that.

Onodera relented. Slightly. He swallowed.

“Okay,” he said. “I remember _some_ things.”

* * *

It was raining that night.

Torrential rains were not particularly uncommon at this time of the year, but Onodera sat by his bedroom window, watching as raindrops created interesting path patterns on the glass.

Funny how rain seemed to always be synonymous with encounters with Takano.

“When did I do that?!” Takano had yelled, essentially throwing in the proverbial last straw that got the both of them kicked out of the school library. To be fair, it wasn’t that far off from closing time, and the librarian was probably just looking for a convenient excuse to lock up early.

Onodera hadn’t revealed much else about what he really knew except that one particular memory that sent him fleeing to England.

* * *

Takano and Onodera sat on the steps outside of the school library after being unceremoniously kicked out, stranded because neither of them had brought an umbrella. Onodera had his knees pulled to his chest, staring helplessly at his feet. The fact that Takano wasn’t saying anything after his little outburst wasn’t really helping the awkward tension. He had never wished so hard for an umbrella in his life.

Finally, Onodera cleared his throat.

“You know, um, if we’re done, I’m just going to go h – “

“Two weeks,” interrupted Takano.

Onodera blinked. “What?”

“I’m moving away in two weeks.”

“I don’t – “

“My parents divorced not long after you left,” said Takano, watching the rain with a strange intensity.

“I’m moving with my mother to the countryside in two weeks.” 

Takano took a deep breath, and it seemed to Onodera that he was almost sighing. There was something in his voice that hinted at a kind of exhaustion that ate away in your bones.

“You wouldn’t know much about my family even if you hadn’t lost your memory,” he continued. “I never really… shared that part about my life.”

There was another silence, with the sound of the rain against the pavement being the only sound between them. Onodera wasn’t quite sure what to say, neither did he think it was his place to do so either.

Takano turned to him.

“I can’t accept that you are the same Ritsu who came running back in the rain with an umbrella. I can’t accept that you are the same boy that told me that he was in love with me. I can’t accept that the only memory you have of me is of something that didn’t happen.”

“Wait, what do you mean it didn’t – “

Takano grabbed his hand.

“Two weeks,” he said in a voice that was barely audible. “At least… At the _very_ least, remember me before I go.”

_But I already do._

* * *

Onodera watched the rain paths on his window. They diverged and converged and diverged again, creating different trails with different experiences that eventually led to the same outcome.

It didn’t matter if this was an alternate timeline. It might be a different situation, but that didn’t change anything. It didn’t change his belief that Takano only saw their relationship as a passing fling… and the very fact that he would be leaving in two weeks and still wanted to embark on some crazy two-week nonsense was just further proof that he didn’t take their relationship seriously.

“Not that we were in a relationship to begin with,” he muttered.

_But if he didn’t, why was he so upset? Yokozawa-san did mention that –_

Onodera mentally slapped himself.

It didn’t matter. He was no different from the present-day Takano who was sex-crazy, to hell with what Yokozawa said. Besides, he was far too old and far too jaded to be entertaining some fifteen-year-old’s fantasy.

Onodera flopped onto his bed and buried his face in his pillow.

But there was something about the way Takano spoke, and the hard edge in his voice was not something he recognised in the seventeen-year-old senpai. It was obvious in the present-day editor-in-chief Takano, yes, but not when he was this young. Perhaps this was when things had changed for him, and Onodera would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the slightest tinge of “discomfort” (it was more like jealousy, really, but it’s not like he would ever admit it) whenever Yokozawa seemed to know aspects of Takano’s life that he didn’t. Plus there was that horrible nagging feeling that Onodera probably didn’t know as much as he thought he did.

Onodera huffed.

* * *

The next day, Onodera found himself waiting outside Takano’s house.

He cursed himself mentally. He cursed Takano as well. He cursed the situation too for good measure.

_Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got._

* * *


End file.
